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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
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THE LOOKOUT 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
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 BY C. C. LORD 
 
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 COPYRIGHT 1 891 
 
 BY C. C. LORD 
 

 PRELU DE. 
 
 MHE earth has voices low and meek 
 L For each who in its pathway strays, 
 But accents yet more gently speak 
 
 In language that through nature plays. 
 
 Than lightest warbling of a bird, m 
 
 Or whisper of a leafy tree, 
 A softer utterance is heard, 
 
 A breath inbreathed o'er land and sea. 
 
 Who walks in time's events and cares, 
 His thought with deep concerns replete, 
 
 Perceives it floating on the airs 
 
 And deems no other sound so sweet. 
 
 The heart receives, in solemn pause, 
 The crowning sentiment it brings — 
 
 Love's wording of life's inward cause, 
 The message of the soul of things. 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 §FT on a summer day, his heart in love 
 Of nature's beauty spread in lavishness 
 Before the captive eye, one seeks the height 
 That far o'erlooks the verdant vales and hills 
 That bless the landscape prized in Hopkinton. 1 
 The sky is bright, the air is soft and clear, 
 The kind west wind subdues the fervent heat, 
 The forest trees prevent the blazing sun, 
 And in cool shade he lies, or sits, or strays, 
 And muses on the scenes that foster dreams. 
 
 Betimes he treads the smooth and grass-grown plat, 
 
 Beneath the lisping pines, where oft gay youths, 
 
 With graver men and matrons, not to tell 
 
 Of children wildly glad, have spread their board, 
 
 To taste the pleasures of a rich repast, 
 
 And mingle with their zest the joy of friends, 
 
 And crown delight with vision fed of pride 
 
 That glows in every prospect of the eye. 2 
 
 In varied mood, he seeks the skirts of shade 
 
 And looks to lofty mounts that lift afar 
 
6 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 Their hoary heads, illumined by the sun, 
 
 And tells their names — Monadnock, 3 Kearsarge, 4 
 
 Chocorua, 5 Mooshillock, 6 and White Face 7 — 
 
 And all the lesser heights the scene commands ; 
 
 And then, perchance, with keener sight endowed, 
 
 With rarer favor of pellucid light, 
 
 He marks the tip of white Mt. Washington, 8 
 
 In the far north, encompassed by his kin, 
 
 The mighty monarch of New Hampshire's hills. 
 
 From fancy different, he turns his steps 
 
 And seeks the western slope, where, through the trees * 
 
 That with their branches form a frame of green, 
 
 And thus enclose the picture of the west, 
 
 He, sitting, cons the vale of Contoocook, 
 
 Reposing sweetly in the smile of day, 
 
 And thinks no other view so strangely fair. 9 
 
 Then, for diversion new, the deep recess 
 
 Of woodland dark he treads, till, on the ridge 
 
 And shaded eminence, he sees the rock, 
 
 Cleft, grooved, and plowed by time's most ancient hand, 
 
 Express the mighty throes the earth has found 
 
 In molding wealth for recent, transient man — 
 
 An endless effort for a day of gain. 10 
 
 At length, for kind repose, he lays him down 
 
 Upon.the summit of the wooded hill, 
 
 And lists to nature's voices. Accents strange 
 
 Float on the subtle wind ; the lisping leaves 
 
THE LOOKOUT 
 
 Evoke weird whispers; supple, waving boughs 
 
 Breathe long-drawn sighs of mystic depths intense ; 
 
 The swaying ferns sob like the ghost of pain ; 
 
 A song-bird pipes far off, as if in fear 
 
 To thread the shrouded mazes of the wood ; 
 
 A timid squirrel, feeding, drops a shell, 
 
 And, starting at the noise himself has made, 
 
 He hastens to his den within a tree. 
 
 The air is full of wondrous, nameless dread, 
 
 And pale reflection wanders in the realm 
 
 Of thought concerned, mysterious, profound. 
 
 The secret of the apprehension vast 
 
 That presses on the soul in this retreat 
 
 Is told in ancient lore of sprites and spells, 
 
 Of sights and sounds unsearchable, that once 
 
 Compelled the aspects of this forest wide, 
 
 When men and matrons honest, though unlearned, 
 
 Passed by the road that skirts the forest east, 
 
 With souls astonished and with hearts dismayed, 
 
 For wonders heard or greater wonders seen. 
 
 To fain relate this legend of old days, 
 
 We grasp the pen and humbly court our skill. 11 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 §LIST, sweet friend, the harmonies that flow 
 From mystic chords where Psyche wakes the key ; 
 The music of the spheres is lapsing low, 
 As soft winds kiss the sea. 
 
 It breathes through all and stirs the sighing grass 
 
 And lisping wood ; behold, the tuneful bee 
 And warbling bird repeat it as they pass 
 Across the sunlit lea. 
 
 Hark ! From the vast, a symphony divine 
 With art supernal hymns a tender plea : 
 It is great Pan ; love's descant, line on line, 
 He breaks to you and me. 
 
 fWO hundred years ago, before the surge 
 And tide of white men from the southern land 
 Had set to north, the scene, that now is rich 
 In fertile farms and happy homes, alone 
 Was known of the rude savage of the wild. 
 The Indian roamed the dells and climbed the hills, 
 He hunted in the vales and on the heights, 
 He marked the native landscape in its pride, 
 And in his rude conceit its charm admired. 
 The Indian women tilled the slopes and meads 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 And harvested the scanty fruits of toil, 
 
 Nutritious maize and beans, and luscious gourds, 
 
 And with utensils crude and few in kind, 12 
 
 The simple meal prepared with equal skill, 
 
 Their home the wigwam slight of wood and skins. 
 
 Thus human life was narrow in its bounds, 
 
 Save when contention of the rival tribes 
 
 Aroused the warlike spirit of the braves 
 
 And sped them on to deeds of blood and death ; 
 
 For jealousies were then in savage hearts, 
 
 As ever since in human hearts improved, 
 
 And on the distant field of mad emprise, 
 
 The soldier of the wild was oft laid low. 
 
 The tribe that in the first historic time 
 Claimed right and precedence upon the soil 
 That now invites attention by this tale 
 Was called by Penacook, the crooked place, 
 Their chief haunt where the river Merrimack, 
 In motion tortuous, suggests the name 
 Still borne by one live village on its bank. 13 
 The chief was mighty Passaconnaway, 
 The man of wondrous gifts of medicine, 
 Who miracles performed and turned the course 
 Of nature from its staid, accustomed path : 
 But, better still, a man of noble heart, 
 He taught his people of the rule of peace, 
 
IO THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 And tamed their spirits fierce in partial meed, 
 And in the end the white man showed as friend, 
 And saved the pale face weak from many woes. 
 All fame bestow on Passaconnaway, 
 Of instincts crude but still of lofty bent ! 14 
 
 Our present theme is not of peace the vein, 
 
 And ours is woe and grief to here compound 
 
 With mysteries that probe the, heart of dread 
 
 And stir the thought in wonder measureless. 
 
 The far off day and savage state that prompt 
 
 Our present purpose claim but slight regard 
 
 For milder virtues such as now adorn 
 
 The soul of man who holds his rightful sway 
 
 Upon this spot where once the Indian dwelt. 
 
 Among the tribes that held the ancient rein 
 
 Of law in this our land in early days, 
 
 The Mohawks roamed, the children of the west, 15 
 
 Of temper keen and vengeance swift, their minds 
 
 Bent on the Penacooks as bitter foes. 
 
 An ancient feud had oft these tribes involved 
 
 In deadly conflict, and the Penacooks, 
 
 Of milder frame, had frequent cause indeed 
 
 To think upon the valor swift and sure 
 
 That stirred within their ancient enemies. 
 
 Nor were the Mohawks simply fierce and bold. 
 
 But with a skill akin to that which makes 
 
THE LOOKOUT II 
 
 The plans of modern civil warriors famed. 
 
 They issued forth in bands to shrewdly close 
 
 And open ranks, as varied wish implied, 
 
 And by the dint of front, or file, or man, 
 
 The dire attack or ambush to display, 
 
 Their foes surprise, and force to bite the dust. 
 
 Forth from their western haunts the Mohawks came 
 
 And pressed the Penacooks at home full hard, 
 
 Till on the eastern bank of Merrimack, 
 
 On lofty Sugar Ball, the harassed tribe 
 
 Fixed there their fortress, high, and strong, and wide, 
 
 Of forest trees constructed well with care, 
 
 And where the braves, with wives and children near, 
 
 And simple bounties of earth's store at hand, 
 
 Withstood assault and kept the foe at bay. 16 
 
 Thus for a time security was held 
 
 Against the Mohawks ; but the subtle foe 
 
 Was quick to plan the scheme that baffled zeal. 
 
 One day a Mohawk brave was seen to make 
 
 Alone his pathway near the cautious fort. 
 
 Apprised, the zealous Penacooks flew forth 
 
 To seek a victim, who with speed intense 
 
 Turned back and fled with seeming wild dismay ; 
 
 And thus, by flight, pursuit, and thoughtless zest, 
 
 The simple Penacooks in ambush caught, 
 
 A strife waged sharp and deadly, while the earth 
 
 Was drenched with blood of both the hostile bands : 
 
12 THE LOOKOUT 
 
 So fierce the contest and so dire the end. 
 That Penacook and Mohawk, weak in war, 
 Contested not again the battle field. 
 Unnumbered braves, reposing side by side, 
 In death found peace that life could not decree. 17 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 saw the waves die on the shore 
 That first broke loudly on the strand, 
 
 But, when the storm provoked no more, 
 The waters whispered to the land ; 
 
 And men, beholding, smiled to see 
 Such tumult sinking into rest, 
 And talked of peace serene and blest : 
 
 So may some thought reflect on me 
 
 With peaceful utterance, as I 
 
 Breathe only low, when I shall die. 
 
 The day died yesternight ; the west, 
 As smiles a happy soul for peace, 
 
 Its glories to the sight addressed, 
 And men were glad at day's decease : 
 
 Yet nightfall brooded o'er the scene, 
 The silent evening dews were shed, 
 And then, " Kind nature weeps !" they said, 
 
 And softly sighed in thoughtful mien : 
 
 So may love gladden, yet to sigh 
 
 To nature's tears, when I shall die. 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 13 
 
 §LD time forever and for aye rolls on, 
 Its great deeds staring in the face of man, 
 Yet while life's large affairs engross the thought, 
 Betimes some minor act upon the stage 
 Of observation to the heart appeals 
 Of those who travel not on broad highways, 
 But keep the lesser paths of sight and sound. 
 Such was, is, and will ever be the law 
 Of truth that ramifies life's farthest bound. 
 In the rude days when mighty contests raged, 
 With Penacook and Mohawk enemies, 
 And huge events the hostile tribes absorbed, 
 A milder train of circumstances held 
 In thoughtful bonds a circle of the tribe 
 That from the east abhorred their western foes. 
 Within the circuit of the savage round 
 Of social forms and features, there were found 
 The ever human grades of high and low, 
 Of rich and poor, as also strong and weak, 
 Of wisdom and simplicity, and each 
 Evinced its service to the common realm, 
 So crude and yet potential in the hints 
 Of life that widens to the grandest scheme 
 Of social excellence. Among the braves, 
 That proudly bore the test of fealty 
 To the great cause and fame of Penacook, 
 Was one Wonancet, lesser chief and head 
 
14 THE LOOKOUT 
 
 Of loyal circles that allegiance kept 
 Within the bounds of present Hopkinton ; 
 And when, in times of warlike service bold, 
 The mighty sachem of the tribe sent forth 
 His mandate to his children of the leaves 
 To follow to the field, none sooner flew 
 Than swift Wonancet to the royal side, 
 Or higher swung his tomahawk to dare 
 The Mohawk heart that would with zeal contest 
 The prowess and the pride of Penacook. 
 Thus while Wonancet and his warriors sped 
 To do the bidding of their noble chief, 
 Their wives and daughters still the soil enticed 
 To yield the food that cheered their homely life, 
 And kept domestic service e'er in vogue, 
 Unless some greater stress of warlike need 
 Forbade the peaceful service of the ground. 
 
 Among the Indian maids that tended corn, 
 
 Or plucked the bean, or trained the climbing gourd, 
 
 Was one Lalula, daughter of the chief, 
 
 Wonancet, and was fairest of the fair. 
 
 Her form and face disclosed the lustrous pride 
 
 Of beauty choice to savage heart and sense, 
 
 While in her spirit dwelt the lofty mien 
 
 That proved her ancient line of blood and worth. 
 
 Nor was Lalula but a noble maid, 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 1 5 
 
 Who kept her native fame in high conceit, 
 
 But, in the self-concentered thought of worth, 
 
 She often strayed alone, and, fain apart 
 
 From common scenes and deeds of less emprise, 
 
 And in the secret haunts of wood and dell, 
 
 Communed with earth and sky in silent zest. 
 
 As thus, in lonely mood and pleasant thought, 
 
 While Penacook and Mohawk still were foes, 
 
 Though open strife was then of each unfound, 
 
 She wandered in the paths of woodland dark, 
 
 She met adventure such as ever maid, 
 
 Of savage tribe or even civil band, 
 
 Holds choice within her secret, living soul, 
 
 And cherishes as treasure of the heart, 
 
 And for it gladly scorns both kith and kin. 
 
 Mogmonis, of the Mohawk royal line, 
 
 A youthful brave on trusty mission sent, 
 
 From far west came with silent, stealthy feet, 
 
 Will ill design to eastern Penacooks. 
 
 Up western paths from swift Connecticut, 
 
 And down the trails that led to Merrimack, 
 
 He trod the fertile vale of Contoocook, 
 
 And in a shady glen that northward lies 
 
 Of the high hill, in present Hopkinton, 
 
 That bears the forest weird that prompts this tale, 
 
 He spied Lalula resting in the shade, 
 
 Beheld her beauty flashing as the light, 
 
l6 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 And, in the zeal impulsive of a man, 
 
 To her addressed his speech in tender guise. 
 
 Lalula was a woman truly born, 
 
 And captivate of youthful manhood bold, 
 
 Adorned with every grace that woman loves, 
 
 When servilely submissive to her will, 
 
 And she Mogmonis saw and thrilled with joy, 
 
 While he besought her heart with pleading voice. 
 
 They sat together long beneath a tree, 
 
 The eager moments hasting in their flight, 
 
 The Mohawk rage, the hate of Penacook, 
 
 Forgotten in the bliss of kindred souls, 
 
 Till she was won and he was victor proud. 
 
 Then next the parting hour too swiftly came, 
 
 And fond Lalula asked of his return, 
 
 And brave Mogmonis gave her pledge of time, 
 
 When he would come again and greet her face, 
 
 And spoke these words of comfort to her ear: 
 
 "I to the sunrise go, to Merrimack, 
 
 And when as many suns have come and gone 
 
 As are the fingers on the fair one's hand, 
 
 I come this way again to seek the west, 
 
 And, when upon yon high and wooded hill, 
 
 Ypu hear the blind owl hoot within the dark, 18 
 
 Come forth and follow to the frequent sound, 
 
 And you shall meet me waiting on the slope. 
 
 The darkened woods shall keep our secret word 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 17 
 
 And promise e'er I seek the sunset land, 
 
 And when as many suns as make a moon 
 
 Have come and gone, and you shall see the sign — 
 
 The fair new moon within the silent west — 
 
 Come then and sit upon the wooded hill, 
 
 And listen for the hooting of the owl, 
 
 Until the moon drops down to find the west, 
 
 Then come again to find me in the dark, 
 
 And I will bear the totem 19 of my tribe, 
 
 Upon a panther skin to keep you warm, 
 
 And, with my trusty braves to keep us safe, 
 
 Together we will seek the sunset land, 
 
 Till, in my far off wigwam true and kind, 
 
 You rest and ask no other home for aye." 
 
 Thus saying, brave Mogmonis went his way. 
 
 Lalula, like a woman lured of love, 
 Kept all the words of brave Mogmonis choice 
 Within her heart, and when five weary days 
 Had passed, and night came slowly stealing on, 
 She sought the summit of the wooded hill, 
 And listened for the hooting of the owl. 
 Which oft repeated slightly down the slope 
 Became the sign of brave Mogmonis near. 
 She crept a little space to darker shades, 
 To meet her faithful lover in the gloom, 
 And feel once more the pressure of his hand, 
 
1 8 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 And hear again the promise of his lips — 
 The pledge within the treasure of the moon — 
 And, when the hasty moments flitted past, 
 With somber parting once again her boon, 
 To keep again the promise in her heart, 
 As one withholds from common eyes a gem, 
 Lest ruthless nature ravish priceless worth. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 ®love, betimes, when earth is green, 
 As climbs the hill or glides the lea, 
 While nature's sunlit smiles are seen, 
 In mystic paths, I walk with thee. 
 
 Where solitude in silence waits, 
 My spirit oft would gladly flee, 
 
 For, past seclusion's pleasant gates, 
 In converse sweet, I walk with thee. 
 
 Nor doubt may firm assurance try, 
 Nor dread can fair composure see, 
 
 When, 'neath a calm and cloudless sky, 
 Through magic fields, I walk with thee. 
 
 For this, in tangled scenes of care, 
 My soul emits an ardent plea 
 
 For that bright realm of comfort where, 
 In transports blest, I walk with thee, 
 
THE LOOKOUT, 19 
 
 jf||F$HERE is a subtle instinct in the soul, 
 
 ir That from within regards all outer space, 
 That swift monition takes of sight and sound, 
 When once a care perturbs the silent breast : 
 And one who walks with anxiousness untold 
 Within the deep recesses of the heart, 
 And broods on fitful time and circumstance, 
 The while love waits uncertain issues vast, 
 Sees fate in shapes and shadows, accents light, 
 And echoes faint, and spell-bound holds the world. 
 Far truer such conception when the thought 
 Reviews some evidence of direful fault, 
 Precaution wounded by the sense of blame, 
 For conscience ever rankles in the breast 
 Of one who fosters true or fancied wrong, 
 And fills imagination with rebuke 
 Of nature sentient of duty scorned. 
 Lalula, woman born, of quicker sense 
 Of inward mysteries of heart and soul, 
 On strange reflections fell, as in the path 
 Of toil or pleasure life pursued its way. 
 Besides the care that ever follows one 
 Who loves and waits for one to love attest, 
 She felt the burden of an outraged sense 
 Of fealty to ancient name and tribe. 
 u Would the Great Spirit of the boundless world 
 Complacently behold the thankless maid 
 2 
 
20 THE LOOKOUT 
 
 Who friends forgot and gave her heart to foes?"- 
 She asked within and feared as maiden might. 
 Where'er she strayed, a solemn dread pursued 
 Her footsteps, till she startled quickly oft, 
 When the soft wind breathed lightly, or the dry, 
 Dead leaf but rustled on the mindless ground, 
 Or when the squirrel leaped, or bird took wing, 
 Or more than all when comrades of her tribe 
 But whispered once together, just aside, 
 And to herself seemed victim of all things, 
 Espying and accusing, hour by hour. 
 But passion in the heart of womankind, 
 When knit with wild romance, has potent skill 
 To lure consent and bind the captive will 
 To do its bidding. Conscience is a child 
 In giant hands when woman's love is bent 
 On rash fulfillment. Fair Lalula kept 
 Her tryst with bold Mogmonis, and the days, 
 That hasted for the moon new in the west, 
 Seemed far too slow in passing, as she dreamed 
 In silence of the hour when love would reign 
 Triumphant in her bosom, and his face, 
 And form, and speech should ever choicer be 
 Than all the pleasant gifts of kith and kin. 
 
 The longest day and hour have certain end, 
 And every soul that waits receives reward 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 21 
 
 Of patience, for the wheel of fortune turns 
 To ever nearer bring the cherished goal, 
 While nature hastes or even rests supine. 
 The bright course of the sun is ever fixed, 
 And of it are the changes of the moon, 
 Which, often quenched in brighter blazing light, 
 Revives to burn its pale fire in the west, 
 The sweet and silver gleam at evening fair. 
 Lalula watched the sunset day by day, 
 Till once the mighty orb fell slowly down, 
 With purple, and with gold, and crimson train, 
 And left the cheerful bow upon the sky, 
 The smile of day still beaming on the night ; 
 And then she took her careful, hopeful way 
 To seek the hilltop and the western scene, 
 Her woman's heart responding in her breast 
 To all the trembling ardor of her soul. 
 Nor could the love intense that dared its fate 
 Suppress the pleading sense of native home, 
 And hence she paused upon the eastern slope, 
 To look upon the wigwam of her sire, 
 That nestled by the brisk and silver stream, 
 That later bears the name of Sibley brook, 20 
 And for a moment wished that time and change 
 Had never touched her heart with wild concern 
 For life, and love, and comfort far away. 
 Yet, briefly thinking thus, she turned again, 
 
22 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 To seek the dim seclusion of the wood, 
 And on the shaded hilltop watch the west, 
 And listen for the hooting of the owl, 
 And, in some dark recess of nightly shade, 
 Her lover's face to greet and form embrace. 
 
 Upon a rock once rent by mighty throes 
 
 Of mundane nature in the strife of time, 
 
 She sat her down beneath a spreading tree, 
 
 And through the leafy avenues of light, 
 
 That faintly guided vision to the sky, 
 
 She looked upon the new moon in the west, 
 
 That seemed to beckon softly through the night, 
 
 That slowly cast its mantle on the world, 
 
 The silver crescent moon sank down and down, 
 
 The western light dissolved in deeper shade, 
 
 Till something like a gloom of sorrow deep 
 
 Oppressed her soul that fain would weep for woe. 
 
 Just then the patient moon dropped down the west, 
 
 Its upward horn depressing to the dark, 
 
 And once she heard the hooting of the owl 
 
 Break softly on the air of night supreme. 
 
 She started, for her heart was full of dread, 
 
 As ever is a maiden's, sitting lone 
 
 Within the shadow of a nightly scene, 
 
 Yet listened once again the gladful sound. 
 
 It came renewed upon the western breeze, 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 23 
 
 That lightly swept the wooded hilltop o'er, 
 
 And then she rose to follow and to find 
 
 The spot where waiting love evoked the call 
 
 That waked response within the willing heart. 
 
 She started softly down the western slope, 
 
 The hooting of the owl her ear regained, 
 
 But on her stealthy way there crept a chill 
 
 And fear as of a presence vast and strange. 
 
 Her apprehension ever woke surprise — 
 
 Was that a step upon the startled ground ? 
 
 Was that a form that fled behind a tree? 
 
 Was that a whisper on the frightened air? — 
 
 And e'er she groped in dreaded mystery. 
 
 At length within a dim retreat of shade, 
 
 From whence came forth the hooting of the owl, 
 
 She traced the forms uncertain of the braves, 
 
 Mogmonis and his escort, Mohawks true, 
 
 A dozen men that hid within the dark, 
 
 And then her heart in expectation leaped, 
 
 Though wish conjoined with awe is ever found 
 
 In woman's nature on the brink of fate. 
 
 Lalula would Mogmonis answer then, 
 
 But sudden fright o'erwhelmed her fainting soul, — 
 
 A shout of twenty voices shrill and loud, 
 
 A sound of forty footsteps rushing fast, 
 
 The twang of twenty bow-strings on the air, 
 
 The loud alarm of twelve w T ild Mohawk braves, 
 
24 THE LOOKOUT 
 
 The swift attack of twenty Penacooks — 
 Wonancet and his ninteen trusty braves — 
 Who came Lulala's fame to save, and yet 
 Strike terror to the hearts of ancient foes. 
 The sudden scene Lalula gave dismay, 
 Too swift for woman's thought or sure design, 
 Nor could reflection rouse to shape her will 
 Before sharp fate expressed her hasty doom. 
 The braves of Penacook with prowess high 
 Upon the Mohawks pressed ; the western braves, 
 Surprised, retreated, scarcely giving sign 
 Of thoughtful valor, save that one by chance 
 His arrow sped to seek the dashing foe. 
 The hapless weapon pierced Lalula's heart, 
 Her form sank down upon the shrouded earth, 
 And she was martyr crowned of love and war. 
 
 The sequel briefly told envolves the sense 
 
 Of subtle instinct in the Indian mind, 
 
 That e'er discerns the evidences slight 
 
 Of passing footsteps through the native wilds. 
 
 Mogmonis came from Mohawk realms to spy 
 
 The land of Penacook with stealthy course 
 
 And silent feet, but ever watchful eyes 
 
 Had tracked his journey eastward from the west, 
 
 And of return bore notice ; when he sat 
 
 With fair Lalula in the shaded glen, 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 25 
 
 Quick ears o'erheard each soft and tender word, 
 
 And stored his promise for resentment sweet 
 
 And vengeance sure ; when oft recurring suns 
 
 Revolved to prove the e'er returning moon, 
 
 No step Lalula took unseen of those 
 
 Who claimed her inmost heart in fealty 
 
 To her own tribe of ancient name and fame ; 
 
 And when, in shadows of the fateful night, 
 
 Upon the summit of the wooded hill, 
 
 She listened for the hooting of the owl, 
 
 Soft feet were near her, searching eyes beheld 
 
 Her certain form, while ever eager ears 
 
 Escaped no call that greeted once her own. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 ]) SHALL weep when you are gone, 
 * As through empty scenes forsaken, 
 
 I shall wander to and fro, 
 While oft memories awaken 
 All the incidents of woe 
 That make 
 Hearts break ; 
 And my spirits wild complaining, 
 
 As a torrent surges on, 
 Shall surmount my will restraining — 
 I shall weep when you are gone. 
 
26 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 I shall weep when you are gone : 
 Though impatient floods of sadness 
 
 In indulgence have surcease, 
 Tears will rush betimes for gladness 
 
 With your soul enthroned in peace ; 
 Fate frowns, 
 Yet crowns 
 The bright object of love's yearning ; 
 
 As the dewdrops greet the dawn, 
 You in sacred pride discerning, 
 
 I shall weep when you are gone. 
 
 I shall weep when you are gone : 
 When crude impulse knows subjection, 
 
 And composure rules my breast, 
 Thoughts of you in calm reflection 
 
 Shall dissolve in raptures blest 
 Which melt, 
 When felt, 
 All the iciness despairing 
 
 Of a loneness dull and wan, 
 And old fondness seem declaring — 
 
 I shall weep when you are gone. 
 
 flME ever glides to leave its harsh events 
 Receding far and farther to the past, 
 And soon the startling scene of sudden woe 
 Upon the hilltop, where Lalula fair 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 27 
 
 Had met the doom that ever o'er rash will 
 
 And purpose hangs foreboding, to the realm 
 
 Of recollection sped, to dimmer grow, 
 
 And dimmer still, in retrospective thought. 
 
 The savage mind, reflective in the sphere 
 
 Of such considerations as is oft 
 
 In man a mental refuge, learned to look 
 
 With kinder bent on fair Lalula's fate ; 
 
 And old companions said, u She was a girl 
 
 Of noble will, except that once her heart 
 
 Was captive of the zeal that oft afflicts 
 
 The young and simple." But her fault condoned 
 
 Stayed not the sentiment of weird emprise 
 
 That ever in the breast of humankind 
 
 Aspires to link dark fate with mystery 
 
 And court illusion on the scene of dread. 
 
 The Indian gossips told Lalula's tale, 
 
 And savage instinct filled the shaded hill 
 
 With spectral shapes, and sounds of mystic tone, 
 
 While quick imagination held the deeds 
 
 Of sad Lalula's woe enacted still, 
 
 Within the shadows of returning night, 
 
 Upon the hilltop in the ancient wood. 
 
 The hooting owl became the Mohawk brave, 
 
 The fitful, rustling wind revived the feet 
 
 Of Penacooks that lurked to spoil the foe, 
 
 The shrieking tempest waked the voices old 
 
28 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 That sped dismay to fill the Mohawk breast, 
 And when the fire-fly blazed in leafy June, 
 The spirit of Lalula strayed abroad. 
 Such things the Indian fancy, rude and wild, 
 Portrayed, the while the ancient fame and blood 
 Of Penacook were stirred in Mohawk wars ; 
 And when sharp fate was sealed at Sugar Ball, 
 And war no longer clashed the hostile tribes, 
 And Penacooks were fewer and more tame, 
 Their passions calmed by Passaconnaway, 
 The white man came to thrive and fill the land, 
 And, in the haunts of present Hopkinton, 
 To look upon the ancient wooded hill, 
 And from his Indian friend, subdued by time, 
 Receive the legend of Lalula's doom. 
 The pale face smiled, incredulous, but still 
 The red man shook in solemn mien his head 
 And said, " True ! True ! The spirit of the maid 
 Still walks upon the hill, and, in the wood, 
 Seeks long in vain the rest that may not come 
 To one who hastes too soon to join the tribe 
 That, in the hunting-ground of happy braves, 
 Finds joy that ever dwells within the breast." 21 
 
 A generation fled, and then the land, 
 
 Where now are peaceful homes of Hopkinton, 
 
 Was roused to wild alarm for warlike deeds, 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 2$ 
 
 And men and matrons, sons and daughters all, 
 
 The English settlers of New Hampshire's wild, 
 
 Were daily cautious of their foes' designs — 
 
 The schemes of Frenchmen wrought in Canada — 
 
 But chiefly wary of their red allies, 
 
 Who swept the wild to prey on English blood. 22 
 
 The strong block-houses were the oft resort 
 
 Of people apprehensive, 23 and betimes 
 
 A sentinel was stationed on the hill, 
 
 That farthest overlooked the distant scene, 
 
 To watch the smoke of transient Indian fires, 
 
 Revealing danger from the heartless tribe 
 
 That southward ranged from northern Canada, 
 
 By name St. Francis, 24 of French contact found. 
 
 The watchful practice on the wooded height 
 
 Evoked the designation of the place 
 
 That ever since has recognition borne. 
 
 The Lookout still the indication gives 
 
 Of the strange spot that prompts this mystic tale. 
 
 One day, while dire alarm oppressed the land, 
 
 Stout-hearted Enoch Eastman 25 took his place 
 
 Upon the Lookout's brow, to scan the vales, 
 
 That circle round the wooded eminence, 
 
 Perchance to note the smoke of Indian fires. 
 
 The sun had sunk below the brilliant west, 
 
 And still staunch Eastman kept his faithful post, 
 
 For Indian scouts reposed at eve to build 
 
30 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 Their fires and cook the rude and hasty meal. 26 
 The shadows of the night crept o'er the hill, 
 Nor Eastman thought to go till straining sight 
 No more revealed a trace of objects far ; 
 But, when the shades grew dark, he heard the owl, 
 And looked to west and spied the crescent moon, 
 New, bright, and beautiful, and then his steps 
 Turned to the homeward path. What startled him? 
 What strange sound fluttered on the lisping breeze ? 
 What presence weird oppressed the evening air? 
 What fear unnamed made all his flesh to creep? 
 How does the heart feel more than eye can see ? 
 What made stout Eastman urge his footsteps on, 
 Not swiftly, but with e'er recurring sense 
 Of something dreadful fain left far behind? 
 The thought is dull, and life has much to learn. 
 
 To-morrow came, but Eastman kept his peace ; 
 The time wore on, nor word escaped his lips ; 
 But once at length a goodman sought his mind, 
 And said, u Did you, ere this, upon the hill, 
 The Lookout, see strange sights or ever hear 
 Sounds unexplained, to plague your honest mind?" 
 Then Enoch Eastman smiled and turned the theme 
 Of conversation to some common fact 
 Or circumstance of ever oft affairs, 
 Until his neighbor, seeking things direct, 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 31 
 
 At such diversion marvelled, for he knew 
 
 That Eastman was a man full apt to speak 
 
 And straight express the point, nor wander once 
 
 From the right subject ; and he half believed 
 
 That Eastman something knew but would not tell 
 
 The thought that dwelt within him. Then he mused 
 
 And silently reviewed the vague reports 
 
 Of mysteries upon the Lookout seen 
 
 Or heard by honest people. There was one — 
 
 Good David Woodwell 27 — and his eye had caught 
 
 Strange visions ; Joseph Putney, 28 true and sound, 
 
 Had noises heard that reason vainly tried 
 
 By explanation ; and good, pious folk, 
 
 In contemplation of such wonders dire, 
 
 Inclined to answer, when their minds were sought, 
 
 That doubtless some dark deed of sinful man 
 
 Profaned those ancient haunts of hill and wood, 
 
 And earth and nature, shocked by crime unseen 
 
 Of human eyes, had made the Lookout wear 
 
 A dreaded aspect till all things be shown 
 
 In clearness at the judgment of the world. 29 
 
 Reflection in this goodman verified, 
 
 In sooth the Lookout, as the ghostly place, 
 
 The witch-wood, or the shady, haunted ground, 
 
 The fact presented, as if doubt were hushed. 
 
 Yet none Lalula knew bv ancient lore, 
 
 And dark oblivion her life absorbed. 
 
3 2 THE LOOKOUT 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 §EE, dear one, bloom and leaf are gone, 
 And song-birds to their refuge fly, 
 But the great world itself lives on, 
 So changeless is the earth and sky. 
 
 We walk through shifting scenes and know 
 Each impress new and aspect strange, 
 
 Yet, sky above and earth below, 
 
 Sweet heart and hope, they never change. 
 
 Then let the years roll on apace, 
 
 And freshness, youth, and beauty flee, 
 
 The soul that beams within thy face, 
 
 Love's earth and sky, shall changeless be. 
 
 t HUNDRED years express the mighty change 
 That nature works in swift ideals found 
 In human thought that ever counsel takes 
 Of subtle cause in scene and circumstance 
 That quicken wonder in the ardent soul. 
 The rolling sun that lights the passive world 
 A century had told since first the steps 
 Of white men, seeking new and better thrift, 
 Had found the wild of present Hopkinton, 
 And ways and customs civil had assumed 
 The place of savage art in rude emprise. 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 33 
 
 A hundred years had filled the restless mind 
 
 With new conceptions and with fresh designs : 
 
 A hundred avenues of blithe research — 
 
 The school, the book, the constant gazetteer, 
 
 And each quick aid of thought that each attends — 
 
 Had wrought reflection in the cautious soul 
 
 In analytic mood and made a doubt 
 
 Oft supersede belief in endless frames 
 
 Of mind investigative, keen, intense. 
 
 Yet still the Lookout stood ; the wooded shade 
 
 Of time's old hill-top, rocky, ragged, rent, 
 
 Still recognition claimed of fancy weird, 
 
 That ever caused the strange adventures met 
 
 By passing men and women, who, for truth 
 
 In boldest declaration, heeded not 
 
 To tell their tale and let the world mock on. 
 
 The spectral sights and kindred mystic sounds 
 
 That paled the faces of the honest folk, 
 
 And made their chill flesh creep for dismal fear, 
 
 Were no vain, vague conceptions of the mind 
 
 Of timid nature by tradition stirred, 
 
 As fact bore evidence. Good Joseph Gage 30 
 
 Was honest, pious; and, his conscience set 
 
 On themes more lofty than the world's alarms, 
 
 He laughed at vain delusion that would fill 
 
 The Lookout with its idle spectres dim : 
 
34 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 But, when one night he trod the highway east, 
 
 Four balls of spectral fire beset his path, 
 
 And though, undaunted, in his conscience clear, 
 
 He fain presented straight his sharp-edged tool, 
 
 With which he labored at the joiner's task, 
 
 And made with trepidation, strange but real, 
 
 His journey home, to greet his faithful spouse 
 
 And bear her raillery, for she was glad 
 
 That he who doubted truth had lived to see 
 
 The fact he counted naught and idly scorned. 
 
 So brave John Holmes, 31 of well established mind 
 
 And purpose manly, passed the Lookout dim 
 
 At evening's fall, and saw the spectral light, 
 
 And testimony bore both true and straight. 
 
 Nor were the strange events that clustered round 
 
 The Lookout weird of night alone expressed. 
 
 The day was witness to the certain signs 
 
 Of things unknown and still more strangely wrought 
 
 Within the shady haunts the Lookout bore. 
 
 Thus once John Hubbard, 32 man of sturdy mind, 
 
 Passed by the wood in daylight full and clear, 
 
 And soon perceived a form close by his side, 
 
 And fain to it had spoken, but the wraith — 
 
 For wraith it was — at once escaped his view, 
 
 To eyesight vanishing ; and he who w r ould 
 
 Have kindly converse held was left alone 
 
 To muse upon the fact transcending each 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 35 
 
 Quick hint of cause, to explanation foil. 
 So likewise on a sunlit, summer day, 
 A group of honest dames, 33 of social mind, 
 Whose homes were near, set forth to spend the hours 
 In missions neighborly, as matrons e'er 
 Delight to meet and gossip of the times 
 And things that make the household circle bright. 
 They passed the Lookout to some sister's hearth, 
 And fain returned, but when their thoughtless path 
 Led by the fated wood, their hearts were roused 
 To wild alarm, for from the forest deep 
 Came sounds of tramping of a hundred feet 
 Bent on disastrous errands ; and the dames, 
 With breathless haste, o'erleaped the eastern wall, 
 And in the field looked back with staring eyes, 
 To see what strange pursuers raged so fast 
 And fearfully to break the peace of day ; 
 But, looking long, they naught approaching saw, 
 And, when composure had their hearts restored, 
 With w r onder homeward they resumed their way. 
 Again, one summer day, a maiden kind, 34 
 With children innocent, for berries wild, 
 Strayed in a lot that gently eastward slopes, 
 The broad highway dividing field and wood, 
 The Lookout being west ; and as they plucked 
 The berries ripe and rich, a thoughtless glance 
 Disclosed, upon the highway broad and free, 
 3 
 
%6 THE LOOKOUT, 
 
 A specter, form and shadow, each combined 
 With each to make the vision pause in view 
 And still pass onward to the distant space. 35 
 With such presentment, maiden mind in vain 
 Wild apprehension chided ; urging on 
 Her tender charges, straight the homeward path 
 She fast adopted, for her heart was weak. 
 
 The end of each recital comes at last, 
 
 The final page of each narration breaks 
 
 The thread continuous ; and we must tell 
 
 The closing mystery that haunts the leaves 
 
 Of this quaint volume, freighted with the lore 
 
 Of times historic e'er receding fast 
 
 To the dim memory of things long gone. 
 
 Yet this we now relate, a little space 
 
 Extending backward in the lapse of time,- 
 
 Is of the day in which we live and move 
 
 Who claim the generation which now is, 
 
 Though some have from its light emerged to shade 
 
 Unending in the sequence of the world. 
 
 Not many years ago, a lady, 30 ripe 
 
 In culture and the grace that wisdom gives, 
 
 Was lodging near the Lookout. In the robes 
 
 Of lustrous summer, all the scene around 
 
 Was dressed in mien luxurious ; the eye 
 
 Roamed near and far to feast on loveliness. 
 
 For sweet composure of soft evening hours, 
 
THE LOOKOUT 37 
 
 In such a tempting season, she whose name 
 
 Is here withheld, arose and left her couch, 
 
 To scan earth's beauty in the mellow light ; 
 
 And, looking to the sky, above the wood, 
 
 That shaded all the hill-top, famed of old 
 
 For sights and sounds that vex inquiring thought — 
 
 The Lookout — she beheld the fair, new moon, 
 
 With luster smiling in the placid west. 
 
 She heard the wild owl hoot within the deep, 
 
 Dim forest ; then a weird and wondrous scene 
 
 Entrapped her vision ; from the hill-top dark 
 
 Arose an exhalation, like a cloud, 
 
 That swerved, revolved, and, by surprising art, 
 
 Expressed the human form, that seemed to seek 
 
 Escape from earth's dull bonds and upward flight 
 
 To high release celestial. She who saw 
 
 The wonder could not brook emotion swift, 
 
 And straightway she awoke companions two, 
 
 Bright ladies, full of sense, with vision clear, 
 
 And pointed to the specter of the hill, 
 
 Which all three saw, and strove in vain to find 
 
 The reason of the phantom ; nor was one, 
 
 To mystic lore accustomed, quick to spy 
 
 Lalula's chastened spirit on its way 
 
 To happy fields of light, the gloomy shade 
 
 Resigning in the triumph of a soul, 
 
 That e'er outlives the sorrows of an age. 
 
38 THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 fHE world is dark : 
 Who thinks within the pale of sense 
 And time discerns no evidence 
 Of truth's bright spark. 
 
 Nor faith has skill 
 
 Alone to penetrate the gloom, 
 And give advancing courage room 
 
 Its doubts to still. 
 
 We dwell with night — 
 
 Black, hopeless night — till o'er our souls 
 Life's super-mundane precept rolls, 
 
 < < Let there be light ! " 
 
 ^||ftO-DAY the sunlight breaks the Lookout o'er, 
 jt To-night the gentle shades embrace the hill, 
 And no one walks with cautious feet the ground, 
 And no eye sees a specter on the path, 
 And no ear hears a sound of ghostly tone. 
 The owl still hoots within the nightly gloom, 
 The bright new moon returns to grace the west, 
 And no tried spirit troubles all the scene. 
 Who treads the height reaps prospects rich and rare, 
 And looses dark concern in bright emprise 
 
THE LOOKOUT. 39 
 
 Of nature robed in boundless, nameless charms ; 
 
 But then, perchance, his thought to fancy turned, 
 
 He muses of the legend of old days 
 
 That, like a gentle spirit of a dream, 
 
 In sweetness hovers o'er this old domain. 
 
 He fain reposes on the rugged rock, 
 
 Beneath the shade of verdant forest trees, 
 
 And lists the whispers weird of lisping leaves, 
 
 Perceives the deep-drawn sighs of waving boughs, 
 
 And marks the ghostly sobbing of the ferns, 
 
 And notes the doubtful piping of a bird, 
 
 And sees the startled squirrel leap for fear, 
 
 And, all his soul enraptured in the glow 
 
 And fervor of imagination free, 
 
 He rests till, rousing from his transport deep, 
 
 His thankful heart evokes an earnest plea. 
 
 " O men of sturdy worth," he, silent, prays, 
 
 "Ye who by line and scroll this region claim, 37 
 
 Be kind to him who loves illusion sweet, 
 
 And mar no shades that bless this hilltop high ! 
 
 The rock is hard and cannot feel the plow, 
 
 The soil is thin and cannot yield the grain : 
 
 Then let these trees the crest and cleft adorn, 
 
 Their pleasant shadows gliding with the sun. 
 
 The darling columbine 38 the crevice decks, 
 
 Like sorrow's blood-drops turned to lustrous life ; 
 
 The blooming moccasin 39 the steps of pain 
 
40 THE LOOKOUT 
 
 Seems fain to rescue from the dead unseen. 
 
 The far off fabled days return again, 
 
 And rapt conception drinks its fill of dreams 
 
 Upon the Lookout's brow. Spare then these haunts ! 
 
 Give prosy prudence all its right and realm, 
 
 But gentle poesy give glens and shades 
 
 Wherein to stray and with the sprites commune, 
 
 That, where the scene grows dim, the spirit bright 
 
 May weave the themes of endless fair delight." 
 
 Postlude. 
 
 ft OVE, the day dies ; the slowly shrouded west 
 WL Wears long its sunset smile ; the cheerful gold 
 And crimson fade, and fade, while, for dear rest, 
 The soft wind lisps, day's comfort to uphold, 
 O'er hill and dell, 
 Vive, vale! — Be happy and farewell! 
 
 Day glides to night and night dissolves to day ; 
 
 The soul hath comfort hence and cons her rede, 
 And when life's shadows grope their doleful way, 
 
 While fades the light, she lisps, with smiles that heed 
 And grief repel, 
 Vive, vale ! — Be happy and farewell ! 
 
 What if this day that crowns thy soul and mine 
 
 Shall soon resolve to shade? Sweet, smiling hope 
 Shall bless the western scene ; the tranquil sign 
 Will cheer us, lisping, on pale evening's slope, 
 Though teardrops swell, 
 Vive, vale I — Be happy and farewell! 
 
OTHER POEMS. 
 
OTHER POEMS. 
 
 THE SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 SHE summer evening smiles ; the eye 
 Ir Of fancy courts the mellow scene, 
 To view the chambers of the sky 
 And scan the earth in dewlit sheen. 
 
 Diana 40 strides across the dome, 
 
 While shepherds drive, in fleecy white, 
 
 The hasting flocks of Hermes home 
 Along the milky pathway bright. 
 
 Rare Venus lights her vestal fire, 
 Orion leads his valiant hound, 
 
 The thoughtless Pleiads flee, the dire 
 
 Huge Bear completes his sluggish round. 
 
 The hosts on high their courses keep 
 In silence, while the world below 
 
 Is still, save when some passion deep 
 A breast surcharged doth overflow. 
 
44 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 A lisp ! Some dryad heaves a sigh, 
 
 Or nymph in smothered accent breathes 
 
 A whispered woe, as flutters by 
 The infant god in rosy wreaths. 
 
 The distant mountain's brow is calm, 
 Great Jove withholds his stern behest, 
 
 As, tender of the hour's alarm, 
 
 His thunders sleep, his lightnings rest. 
 
 We sit, and muse, and in a dream 
 Read ancient myths in all the realms 
 
 Of nature, while each tempting theme 
 Evokes a bliss that overwhelms 
 
 The spirit, till a waking thought 
 
 Laments the truth that breaks the charm, 
 
 Dispelling lore by poets wrought 
 In olive shades and groves of palm. 
 
 THE PHCENIX. 41 
 
 IftHE fabled bird of ancient lore, 
 lr That died and lived regenerate, 
 
 Is emblem^of his true estate 
 Whose conflicts waste and yet restore 
 
OTHER POEMS. 45 
 
 His heart, an energy profound, 
 
 Quick, in his firmly faithful breast, 
 To each demand of time attest 
 
 And yet with strength divine rebound. 
 
 No crisis breaks the peace of one 
 
 Who owns no light but sacred truth, 
 Whose future thrives in endless youth, 
 
 His past recorded in the sun. 
 
 Pale fear by boundless trust allayed, 
 
 His soul evades the bonds of care, 
 
 As, in the mythic change, the air 
 In sweetly perfumed breezes played ; 
 
 For, lofty on the mystic tree, 
 
 Whence life from death o'erlooked the lands, 
 The genius of his thought commands 
 
 The worth that was and is to be. 
 
 I muse upon the legend old, 
 
 The while my rapt reflections seem 
 Pulsations of a holy theme, 
 
 In which unnumbered charms unfold, 
 
 Until my captive spirit hails 
 
 An influx breathing from the vast 
 
 And rich traditions of the past, 
 Like incense borne on gentle gales. 
 
46 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES. 42 
 
 1|N the vast expanse of heaven — 
 ± So they say — where eons roll, 
 Endless impulse, like a leaven, 
 
 Stirs within the mighty whole, 
 Like an inexpressive yearning, 
 While the nebulae on high, 
 To each circling system turning, 
 
 Rhythmic, grace the chambered sky. 
 
 Then the silent, nameless feeling, 
 
 In the vortices of space, 
 As an instinct, self-revealing, 
 
 Wreathes a smile upon a face, 
 Lights the solar realms with luster 
 
 Till a charm without alloy 
 Decks each stellar gem and cluster 
 
 With the semblance of a joy. 
 
 But the sacred virtues, dwelling 
 
 Just above the plane of day, 
 Hear a strain of gladness, welling 
 
 From each vorticel and ray, 
 With a voice and tone supernal, 
 
 And, with rapt, delighted ears, 
 List the poem, hymn, eternal, 
 
 Of the music of the spheres. 
 
OTHER POEMS. 47 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 IfijHE blazing sun that rules on high 
 1® In splendor, with resistless sway, 
 Fulfills his circuit of the sky, 
 
 Nor tells his course from day to day ; 
 
 And, round the globe, the deluge bright, 
 
 Submissive to his sovran power, 
 Pursues the mission of the light, 
 
 Nor recks its time from hour to hour. 
 
 The muse the spirit oft illumes, 
 
 The utmost bound of soul its claim, 
 
 And fires the heart of secret glooms, 
 Nor marks a burst from flame to flame ; 
 
 But, lighting all the waking dream 
 Of him who burns with zeal sublime, 
 
 Evokes his tongue to shape the theme, 
 
 Nor count the pace from rhyme to rhyme. 43 
 
NOTES. 
 
 i. Page 5. The north brow of Putney's hill in Hopkinton, 
 N. H., is sometimes called Gould's hill, and Mt. Lookout. 
 For an indefinite historic period, the wooded hill-top has 
 been popularly known simply as the Lookout. The elevation 
 is the highest in the town and overlooks a wide extent of 
 beautiful surrounding country. 
 
 1 . Page 5 . There is an unusually pleasant picnic ground 
 in the north part of the wood that crowns the hill. 
 
 3. Page 6. The tip of Mt. Monadnock, in Jaffrey and Dub- 
 lin, can be seen in the southwest. 
 
 4. Page 6. Mt. Kearsarge, the highest elevation in Merri- 
 mack county, is prominently seen in the northwest. 
 
 5. Page 6. Mt. Chocorua, in Albany, can be seen north- 
 easterly. 
 
 6. Page 6. Mt. Mooshillock, in Benton, can be seen in the 
 north. 
 
 7. Page 6. The White Face mountain can be seen north- 
 easterly in Waterville. 
 
 8. Page 6. The tip of Mt. Washington can be seen in the 
 north, if there is a very clear atmosphere. 
 
50 NOTES. 
 
 9. Page 6. The writer has taken a number of strangers to 
 witness this view which is exceptionally charming. The 
 great valley of the Contoocook river seems to lie in surpass- 
 ing loveliness as it were under one's feet. 
 
 10. Page 6. The effects of geological agencies in furrow- 
 ing and grooving the hill-top are very marked. 
 
 1 1 . Page 7 . The writer constructs the legend of The 
 Lookout in part to preserve the memory of the traditions 
 that have since early times clustered around the ancient 
 wooded hill. 
 
 12. Page 9. Indian implements have been picked up in 
 Hopkinton in numerous instances. Stone hatchets, or toma- 
 hawks, and stone pestles for pulverizing corn are the princi- 
 pal relics found. 
 
 13. Page 9. The thriving manufacturing village of Pena- 
 cook, in the north part of Concord, bears the name of the 
 Indian tribe first known to the white settlers of the vicinity. 
 
 14. Page 10. The reputation of Passaconnaway, both as 
 a magician and a friend of the white settlers, is attested by 
 competent history. 
 
 15. Page 10. The Mohawks lived in the valley of the 
 Mohawk river. They constituted one of the Five Nations of 
 the Huron-Iroquois Indian confederacy in what is now the 
 state of New York. 
 
 16. Page 11. The location of this fort on the elevation 
 known as Sugar Ball is still pointed out on the east bank of 
 
NOTES. 51 
 
 the Merrimack river at Concord. The Mohawks laid siege 
 on the opposite side of the stream. 
 
 17. Page 12. Tradition fails to relate on which side fell 
 the victory in this battle, which occurred before the settlement 
 of the region by white people ; but it appears that the Pena- 
 cooks were so much reduced by it that they never again waged 
 war with the Mohawks. 
 
 18. Page 16. The practice of signaling each other by imi- 
 tating the hooting of the owl, in vogue among American 
 Indians, is attested in history. Andrew Jackson in 1788 
 saved a whole band of associates, of which he was a leader, 
 from a fatal ambush by night, by rightly interpreting the 
 apparent hooting of owls. 
 
 19. Page 17. The Indian totem was a distinguishing mark 
 of an individual or tribe, and was often or always the figure 
 of a bird, or beast, or other creature. 
 
 20. Page 21. The Sibley brook courses in part through a 
 large farm once owned by Stephen Sibley, but now owned 
 by his son-in-law, Dr. C. P. Gage, of Concord. 
 
 21. Page 28. It is a doctrine of some mystics that the 
 souls of persons who take a too sudden exit from this world 
 are subjected to consequent seasons of unrest until they can 
 recover from the effects of the shock to their subtler nature. 
 Hence deeds of fatal violence, in the minds of some persons, 
 are associated with reputed haunted localities. 
 
 22. Page 29. The "War of the Austrian Succession," 
 which began in 1744, inaugurated a period of contest between 
 
52 NOTES. 
 
 the English and French that continued almost uninterruptedly 
 about twenty years, during which time the English settlers of 
 New England were in peril from the incursions of northern 
 Indians, operating as the allies of the French in Canada. 
 
 23. Page 29. There were three block houses, or garrisons, 
 in Hopkinton. They were Kimball's, Putney's, and Wood- 
 well's. 
 
 24. Page 29. The St. Francis Indians had their chief 
 haunt at the mouth of the St. Francis river, which empties 
 into St. Peter's lake, an expansion of the river St. Lawrence. 
 
 25. Page 29. The name of Enoch Eastman appears upon 
 the rolls of Colonial soldiers during the French and Indian 
 wars. Enoch Eastman, of Hopkinton, lived on the north- 
 ward slope of the Lookout hill, on or near the spot where 
 now lives Ira C. Sweat. 
 
 26. Page 30. There is historic evidence that the St. Fran- 
 cis Indians, when scouting, at least sometimes ate only one 
 meal a day and that at night. 
 
 27. Page 31. David Woodwell was the proprietor of 
 Woodwell's garrison, which stood down the westerly slope of 
 the hill, just southerly from the present residence of Dea. 
 Charles A. Morrill. 
 
 28. Page 31. Joseph Putney was an actual resident of 
 Putney's hill at the time under consideration. 
 
 29. Page 31. The writer remembers a reputable old lady 
 of Putney's hill who said that many of the earlier residents of 
 
NOTES. 53 
 
 the vicinity conceived that some foul deed had some time 
 been committed at the Lookout. 
 
 30. Page 23- The writer remembers Joseph Gage well. 
 The story of Mr. Gage's spectral observation at the Lookout 
 was told in good faith. Mr. Gage lived at the time on the 
 present premises of Charles Gould, north of the Lookout. 
 
 31. Page 34. John Holmes lived north of the Lookout on 
 the present farm of William M. Sweat. Mr. Holmes's spec- 
 tral story is related on authority. 
 
 32. Page 34. John Hubbard's story is repeated with sub- 
 stantial exactness. He related it as one who expected to be 
 believed. 
 
 33. Page 35. The writer personally remembers an old lady 
 who was one of the party who were frightened at the Lookout 
 by the sound of hurrying feet in the woods. It is well to 
 remark in this connection that for the greater part of a long 
 distance, the Lookout wood has never been fenced against the 
 highway. 
 
 34. Page 35. The lady is now living. The writer is in- 
 formed by a person who received the story from her own lips. 
 
 35. Page 36. The lady states very emphatically the appear- 
 ance of a distinct form, though so visually thin as to transmit 
 light and allow distant objects to be seen through it. 
 
 36. Page 36. The essential features of this narrative are 
 authoritative, being afforded the writer by a very near relative 
 of the lady herself. 
 
54 NOTES. 
 
 37. Page 39. The present owners of the point of land more 
 specially implied in this work are Warren Huntoon, M. Ten- 
 ney Clough, and William M. Sweat. 
 
 38. Page 39. The wild columbine (Aquilegia Canadensis), 
 grows on the woody summit of the Lookout hill, the only 
 place where the writer has seen it growing in Hopkinton. 
 
 39. Page 39. The moccasin flower (Cyftriftedium Acaule), 
 more commonly known as my lady's slipper, blooms quite 
 abundantly in the Lookout wood. 
 
 40. Page 43. A figurative or poetical name for the moon. 
 
 41. Page 44. The Roman poet, Ovid, says the Phoenix 
 was a bird that lived five hundred years and then built a nest 
 in an oak or a palm, collecting spices for the purpose, and 
 died on its nest amid odors. From its body a young Phoenix 
 issued to fulfill the course of its parent, after first, on the 
 attainment of sufficiently mature strength, it had taken up the 
 nest and carried it to Heliopolis, in Egypt, depositing it in 
 the temple of the Sun. 
 
 42. Page 46. The ancients evolved a theory that the 
 accordant motion of the celestial bodies really resulted in 
 music. 
 
 43. Page 47. Though rhyme is a positive ornament to 
 poetry, true poetic expression is not dependent on it any 
 more than the course of the sun depends upon the accidental 
 division of time into days and hours.